She rolls her eyes with a smirk.
“Mostly yes, but in the evenings, there’s a fine dining experience with two chefs cooking right in front of you, wine pairings, a curated menu—the works. This’ll be my third time going, actually. I went once with friends, and once with my Uncle Cordell.”
I grin back at her. I’m not one to turn down a delicious meal, especially with my favorite person.
“That sounds great, but I hope you don’t think you can just wine and dine me and you’re definitely gonna get lucky,” I tease. “I’m not that kind of man.”
Kendra bites her lip to keep from laughing.
“I’ll be sure to have you home by ten,” she answers, giggling.
I may actually propose marriage to this truffle risotto. As it is, I’m this close to revealing my inner caveman by using the bread to clean my plate. Kendra leans close to whisper in my ear.
“If we weren’t in public, I would totally lick the bowl.”
“Me too,” I nod. Instead, I pour us both more of the best wine my taste buds have ever experienced.
The servers set down the next course of balsamic brown sugar lamb chops. My mouth waters from the delicious aroma.
“Tell me more about your Uncle Cordell,” I suggest, marveling at how easily my steak knife slices through the tender meat. “You must be close to bring him out for a meal like this.”
A wide smile spreads across Kendra’s face.
“Uncle Cordell is the greatest. You remember Jeremiah from the tournament?” I bob my head. “He’s Jeremiah’s dad. My mom’s brother, actually. The only family I have left on that side.”
“Oh no. How did your mom pass?”
Kendra shakes her head, a small frown now marring her beautiful face.
“She’s not dead,” she says, her voice bitter. “At least, I don’t think so. She just left my dad when I was really little. Leftus.”
I grip my fork harder to keep from dropping it. My mother is everything to me; the glue that holds our family together when Dad is being too harsh and my brothers get too caught up in their own shit. I can’t imagine her ever leaving us, especially not willingly.
“That sucks, Kendra. I’m so sorry.”
I’m shit at condolences. They feel fake, even when the sentiment is genuine. She waves me off.
“It was a long time ago. Anyway, when I was old enough, Uncle Cordell reached out. He said that just because his sister left,didn’t mean he was losing me. Ever since that day, we’ve been in contact. He was at my high school and college graduations. He paid for my headshots after I’d researched the best photographer. He even paid for my flight to my first international gig. Uncle Cordell’s the best.”
I try not to moan in ecstasy when the buttery texture of the lamb explodes on my tongue.
“It sounds like he’s your number one fan,” I surmise, chewing slowly to prolong the bite. Then something occurs to me. “Why wouldn’t your dad help with all the model stuff? Was he…? Was he not a good dad?”
Kendra’s never mentioned having issues with her dad, but our relationship—both friends and more than friends—is still new. To my relief, the haunted look when she talked about her mom isn’t there when she talks about her dad.
“He’s an OK dad. Mostly…out of touch.” She takes a sip of her wine. “When my mom left, I think he looked at me like a do-over. It feels like he uses me to fix all the mistakes he made in his own life.
“Modeling isn’t exactly a stable career path, so he made me get my degree. When I asked for a ride to a casting call, he said no. When I needed professional pictures, the answer was no. Even after I got my agent and booked several big gigs in a row, my dad kept waiting for me to come to my senses.”
She grins to herself.
“Uncle Cordell didn’t, though. He’s more like a father to me than an uncle. My dad has started trying lately, though. In his way.”
Next to me, Kendra resumes eating, having revealed more of the pain that shaped her into the complex woman she is. She’s told me about her attack, about her mom, about her dad. And I think it’s time I made myself vulnerable too.
I take a deep gulp of wine.
“Long before we met, I used to see you every day.” She turns to me, an eyebrow lifted in question.
